What you can learn from Law and Order

I feel like I've voluntarily watched Law and Order: Special Victims Unit enough times to qualify as a fan of the show. Perhaps not a diehard; I don't know the name of Elliot's (Christopher Meloni) wife, I don't know how long he and Olivia (Mariska Hargitay) have been detective partners, if they have other character friends, where they party, etc. In now ten years of airtime, there is certainly no chance that I've seen every episode, though I have caught at least one in all of Hargitay's hairstyle phases. I have to say, dear pixie cut: no, thank you.

While I think the acting is more than acceptable, if not expected, for such shows, it's not really why I can scan through the channels and skip over That 70's Show (though, don't get me wrong, is good in its own Ashton-Before-Demi way) in favor of a Saturday SVU marathon. It's not even necessarily the stories which, may you again not be mistaken, are also riveting. I might even volunteer the word breathtaking, in a truly terrifying way.

The thing that strikes me most about this crime drama is the reality of it. And real quick, I feel the need to defend myself for a third time in about two hundred words: I get that there are about six thousand shows that mirror realistic and everyday crimes. My exact numbers might be off. I get that I haven't seen them all, and I get that you get I am specifically talking about one show, not all ten thousand. (I hear the numbers are growing by the minute). I get that there are even two other stems of Law and Order. I get that TV crime isn't always exactly the slums of the cities we live in.

I get that there are real problems. The fortunate (and I guess, for the sake of dear knowledge, the unfortunate?) part about it is that I've never been exposed to such circumstances. I have never truly feared for my life, ran from a killer, prayed to be rescued. I'm sure that's got something to do with the fact that I live in front of a cornfield and not rows upon rows of apartment buildings, corner drugstores, shady alleyways.

In fact, outside of some brief and (somewhat) sheltered college living situations, I've never truly lived alone. I went from my parent's house, to the dorms, to an apartment, to a miniature house, and back to my parents' once again.

I've never been afraid to walk home. Well, a few times, but that's only because I have very mean friends whose idea of funny is to hide behind strategically placed mailboxes and shrubbery.

I've never been afraid of being car-jacked or shot. Well, once, but that's because I somehow got lost in Camden, New Jersey trying to find my way into Delaware. Trust me, the roads are tricky.

And I was going to say I've never been afraid of being mugged or pick-pocketed, until a very recent Philadelphian moment when I was absolutely, stubbornly convinced that someone had stolen my wallet. After about thirty minutes of crying, cursing, frantically digging through my purse, rehashing my oh-so-flighty steps, crying some more, cursing some more, crying while cursing, I found it, right on the sidewalk (where I had earlier dropped it, I might add), untouched. I believe this, in anyone's world, is what we could call a blessing.

But these are all entirely small concerns. And I guess the biggest question (one of several, I'd imagine) is, if these shows, in their merest form of entertainment, are also able to educate, can they then also inform us of fear? Can they instruct us how to be cautious or how to be afraid? Is there necessarily a difference? Or rather, is the difference necessary?

Here's what I mean: I recently watched an episode that involved a sadistic man whose main goal in life was to control those that surrounded him, family members included. He taught (sorry, threatened) people to fear him and that fear, in his mind, was equal to respect.

The episode ended with Elliot and Olivia finding his 20-something year old nanny locked in a box, alive, under his bed.

So what now? Do we now know to never accept a job invitation from a man who is unable to make direct eye contact? Or do we just trust no one? Is everyone suspect to criminal intentions?

Ummm, maybe. Maybe not directly towards us; maybe if they were only in a certain situation at a certain time with a certain amount of desperation involved. Nonetheless, how do we determine who to trust, and what has primetime's role become in finding that answer?

And so you're probably thinking, Okay, fine, crime drama = informative, yet scary. What about the 6 o'clock news? What about the story about a hit-and-run, the shooting in North City, Everywhere, and the missing kids and the missing kids and the missing kids.

I know. The news scares me, too. Whether it be global or about the people next door, it can truly be a nightmare.

I guess all I mean to question is this: when does that information become crippling? When do we cross over from being informed of our world and aware of our surroundings to being too afraid to exit our front door?

I don't want us to be paralyzed by what we can't control. Not only would that be unfair, it wouldn't be right. We'd have to just stop living. I don't want to be afraid to walk through a parking lot in the dark, I don't want to grip my purse as I'm walking down the street, I don't want to assume every stranger I meet is going to put me in the trunk of his car.

I'm going to do those things sometimes, but I don't want to.

I also don't want to stop watching TV. All things considered, all trash and gore and horror included and aside, I rather enjoy television. I don't devote hours of my life to it or anything. But I sure don't mind Will & Grace reruns, most anything on the Food Network, and sure, sometimes whatever Law and Order episode that Sleuth has to offer.

And I suppose now it's a matter of (ah, yes) checks and balances. Adding the drama to our reality, realizing what is happening, deciding when our safety is actually at stake, being smart, or trying to, in the types of situations where we just aren't sure if the man is a bartender or an axe murderer.

The former is more probable.

Still, for the sake of Elliot and Olivia's pride as television teachers, I'd check around for incriminating evidence.